Oh My God It Is 4:04

Where did my day go? I can't believe it is almost over. Yay! It has been one of those days that started off well and continued to go that way. I've been super busy, but it has been a really good busy so I will refrain from complaining. Looking forward to the weekend - hopefully my adventures will create some fun stories for y'all.

What's the Matter With Kansas?

I'm reading the book What's the Matter With Kansas - How Conservatives Won the Heart of America by Thomas Frank right now. It is quite the entertaining read focused around the supposition that it is self-defeating for middle america red states to vote so solidly Republican. He goes through the history of the state from its start as a haven for radical liberals to the uber-conservative state it is today. So when I received an email from my dear friend and soon to be former co-worker Niki with the subject "Just something else that's wrong with Kansas" I was intrigued. And then I became sickened by the article (click on title above). Turns out you can marry a 14 year old boy or 12 year old girl in Kansas as long as there is parental consent. WHAT?!?!? How is that okay? This just gives more backing to my "you should need a license to have children" movement.

Dictator or Sit-Com Star?

This is mindless fun for a couple minutes. Enjoy!

More Jersey

You know how there are just some songs and occasionally cds that just speak to your current frame of mind or circumstances you are going through? Okay, maybe you don't have that connection to music, but I do and right now I can't stop listening to the Garden State soundtrack (especially Track 3 above). It is just that good. I re-watched the movie about a week and a half ago and it was just as good the third time around. It also reminded me of how much I enjoyed the music so I popped the cd into my iTunes and haven't really listened to anything else the last few days. It's calming, relaxing and thought-provoking all at once. I'm done - just promise you'll check it out sometime.

Winning the War on Terror One Kick at a Time

During kickball season we receive Ghost Man on Third which is our weekly newsletter for goings-on in the kickball world. Every week has a top ten and this week's was so great I had to share.

7. KICKBALL IN IRAQ ...

WAKA has launched a kickball division in Iraq -- the Fallujah Semper Fidelis Division. If you don't believe us, check out the following website for proof:
http://www.worldkickball.com/fallujahsemperfidelis/

News that the Marines in Fallujah would be playing kickball got us to wondering: How might kickball in the military be different from our flavor of kickball? We investigated. Here's what we discovered:

Top 10 Ways Kickball Is Different In the Military:

10. Four-woman rule means Honeycutt, Esposito, Carter, and Pyle sometimes have to "pull a Klinger."
9. Pitching rule exception made for squat-thrust technique.
8. "Boo!" replaced with "Drop and give me 50, maggot!"
7. Team leader Sgt. Slaughter gets total head rush when players refer to him as "captain."
6. Spit-shined equipment. (Head-ref has to be able to see his frikkin' reflection in that damn kickball before play can begin, you piece of crap!)
5. "Kicked in the privates" not what you think it means.
4. The Humvee Drivers -- when not AWOL -- always complaining about combat cleats ruining their pedicures.
3. Park Police not the only ones with weapons now, huh? Huh?! How do you like that?!
2. MP Week at Kelly's Iraqi Times always puts MPs in an awkward position.
And the No. 1 way that kickball is different in the military ...
1. No ghost enlisted men allowed.

All jokes aside, Ghost Man salutes our uniformed personnel overseas for their bravery and their perseverance, and we wish them a safe and swift return to U.S. soil.


God bless these shorts.

Spalding Tattoo

I was watching the Sox game last night without Paul - I think the illness is contagious. Granted, I was flipping (there is still hope) and was shocked when I flipped back to the game to see Clement draped on the pitching mound with 10 people around him. Of course this was the one time the announcers had nothing to say so it took a good five minutes of staring at the screen before I found out what happened. I do give the network credit - they warned viewers before replaying the clip of Clement getting nailed in the head by the ball. Unlike the Today show Monday when they kept replaying the video of the woman diver hitting her head on the diving board. Or Monday Night Football about seven years ago (yes, I was that scarred) when they seemed to have the footage of the linebacker (for the Steelers I think?) getting hit and breaking his leg on a constant loop.

Sigh

Ugh. Why are relationships such work? It seems like it would be easy. Two people like each other. Two people spend time with each other and enjoy one another's company. Where does it become difficult? Communication I think. Everyone has their own style of communication and when those two styles don't mix it can be really bad. Some like to talk a lot, some don't like to talk at all and then there are those in the middle. I am usually middle of the road but lately I've been wanting to talk a lot and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm not an over-analyzer, I'm usually really good with go-with-the-flow, let's see what happens situations, and am hardly ever insecure in relationships.

This thing with Paul is different and I am not sure why. Maybe it's because this is the first relationship I've taken seriously for a good 6 years. Maybe it's because I'm older and don't want to waste time (or his) if this is something that is just going to be fun. I've been in the "let's just have fun and then go our separate ways" relationships. They have their place but I've outgrown them. I'm not saying I want to get married anytime soon, far from it. I just really need to figure out a bunch of crap before I go down that road. I don't look at him and think "this man is going to be the father of my children" or write my name with his last or think about marriage with him at all at this point. It's still far too new. I guess I just want to know if he sees this going somewhere or if it's just a filler. God, that's awful. I am going to go to physical therapy, go home, take a bath, drink a glass of wine and relax. This is ridiculous. I need more to do.

Penguins, Cops and Copters

After a very miserable, boring day spent on my couch elevating my ankle (no it isn't getting better, but thanks so much for asking!) I was restless and going crazy. Jim and I haven't seen each other for a few weeks so when he called to see what I was doing, I jumped at the chance to go out. We decided to do dinner and a movie. He mentioned March of the Penguins and I jumped all over it. Feeling sorry for me, he agreed, but spent the better part of the evening trying to convince me to see something else (Hustle and Flow) that I do want to see, but it looks depressing and he and I have a tendency to see sad movies so I won out. Don't feel pain for him - his remark as we left was "Wow, that was excellent".

He drove me home like the gentleman he can be and we saw about 30 police cars on and blocking the street below mine. Then after I got in my house, promptly locking the door behind me, I heard a police helicopter patrolling the area. The scary part? Jim and I saying "Oh, someone must have been shot" and continuing about our business. When did I become a person used to gun violence?

Internet Porn

Agie, a friend of ours and I went to dinner Friday night after work. We went to this Irish pub in Bethesda and were dismayed to find no table for us to sit at in the bar. So we shared one with three guys who proved to be, ahem, entertaining to say the least. We weren't being too social with them at first but when one of them got left at the table while the other two went outside he struck up a conversation with us about Broadway shows. I know. It gets odder. The other two come back and join in the conversation (it had since moved on from NYC) and ask us what we do. Somehow my mouth uttered "internet porn". I am going to blame it on the drugs I am taking for my ankle. It digressed from there and thankfully they left pretty soon after. At least the food and beer was good.

Post Secret

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail-in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard. Some are funny, some are disturbing and some will make you think "I am so glad someone else feels that way".

My Own Personal Oompa Loompa

There were quite a few memorable moments from our event last night. Two of my favorite:

The staffer who came in and acted like he owned the place, this after asking where the cash machine was. He then came back and asked where his friends ("our entire office was invited") could put their luggage when they arrived. Um, hello....it is a residence, not a hotel. Oh, and his entire office wasn't invited. The Congressman was, not his interns. Sigh. Hillies.

There was an odd little French man who kept wandering the party. He was about 5'2", roundish with white shoulder length wavy hair. He walked up to me at one point and said "As soon as you are out of that (pointing at my boot) you and me, we will go out". Um okay stranger. Turns out he is Georges DeParis, tailor of the US Presidents dating back to LBJ. He was quite charming and entertaining and if he wasn't old enough to be my grandfather I would take him up on that dinner date.

Ouch

Our event last night was a smashing sucess. Everyone had a fantastic time, the Ambassador was happy and we didn't have to kick anyone out. Unfortunately, standing on my ankle for over four hours didn't agree with it. My leg is pretty much numb from my knee down. And where it isn't numb it hurts like hell. I really should go home, but it is already after four and I'm meeting Paul down the street from my office at 6:30. It just makes more sense to suck it up and stick it out. Ugh.

Inside Voice Plan B, Inside Voice

And by inside I mean inside my head. I'm wearing a top today that I wouldn't normally wear into the office. We have an event this evening and I just didn't feel like bringing extra clothes into the office with me so my shirt is not-quite-but-borderline office inappropriate. It's just a little more low-cut and flouncy than I would prefer. Nothing scandalous by any means. Moving on. My boss came into my office first thing this morning with a huge smile on his face and said "nice boot". Well what I heard and said out loud was "nice boob". I don't know that I have ever turned that red in my entire life.

Cautiously Optimistic

I am hoping John G. Roberts is a man who is able to set aside his personal beliefs and let the law and precedents guide his rulings. We shall see. Otherwise it is going to be a very long 35 years.

P.S. to Newark

Heather reminded me this morning of another part of her Jersey saga. At one point the plane had to taxi back to the gate because it ran out of fuel. She finally arrived home a bit after 8 last night and is bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning.

At Least I'm Not in Newark

I've had a pretty bad day. Work is nuts because we're getting ready for this huge event at the French Ambassador's residence tomorrow evening. The event itself will be really fun, there will be dignitaries and members of Congress there and the residence is absolutely stunning, not to mention ginormous. It's just a lot of work. Add to that my boss' incredibly annoying habit of waiting to the last minute to do things that could have been done way in advance and you've got a surly Plan B. On top of work, I'm really bummed at the prospect of not seeing a lot or any of Paul in the next month, my ankle is still really bothering me, we unintentionally went to the Serbian Embassy instead of the Ambassador's residence, and it's beyond oppressively hot here in D.C.. It's just awful. Not as awful as my poor friend Heather's day.

She's been traveling internationally for work an enormous amount of time the last couple months. She was in Geneva last week, from there to Italy (that one was for fun), then from Italy she was headed to Mexico for more work. The Mexicans moved the meeting to next week so she was looking forward to getting back and spending this week in DC.

The gods are against her. I got these two text messages at 5 pm today:

1. "I'm back ok only kinda im n the us only prob is ive been locked in a plane since 2 on the tarmat we arent leaving until at least after 530 yes n the plane"

2. "stop the madness i just want off the plane hg"

So I called to chat her down off the ledge and turns out she flew out of Paris this morning at 1 am our time and hasn't stopped since. The poor thing. She should be landing any time now, but way out at Dulles which means she won't get home until close to 9. My day will never, ever be that bad.

I'm Sad

Paul is working almost every weekend between now and September. And the one weekend in August he isn't working isn't my birthday weekend which I guess doesn't matter because he won't be here that weekend anyway. Sigh. It sucks liking someone.

Evidently, Not That Friendly

This is somehow better than "The stars fell on Alabama" plate I saw today, but really.....a smiley face on the license plate?

Turns out I AM Perfect

So I guess Paul has been fooled by my jello-sweet exterior.


You are Rosy Perfection Salad!! Though your name
may be innocent and cheerful, your jello-sweet
exterior hides a foul, sinister core.

What Weight Watchers recipe card from 1974 are you?

Don't Drink Don't Smoke

What do you do? Subtle inuendos follow, must be something inside.

I discovered yesterday that my not-quite-a-boyfriend Paul thinks I'm a goody good. I'll give you time to contain your laughter and shouts of "Has he met you?"....enough time? Have you composed yourselves sufficiently for me to go on? Okay, take your time. I'll be here all day.